


He Led the Children Home

by thelonebamf



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many lifetimes ago, before he was a villain, Rumplestiltskin had tried to be the hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Led the Children Home

He had never killed a man.

Now the action came so easily. Deftly he’d felt himself move, cutting through the soldiers as though they were air, their blood slowly flowing into the crevices of the knife that spelled his name. All too quickly, it was over.

As he looked down at the bodies strewn before his home he felt something altogether new to him.

He felt powerful. 

At that moment Rumplestiltskin felt that he could do anything. Why stop with felling a few cocky soldiers? The world could be his.

“Papa?” His son’s voice seemed to cut through the dark cloud that surrounded him. “What’s happened to you?” 

With a swift movement, the enchanted dagger was quickly tucked within Rumplestiltskin’s cloak and hidden from view. There was no need to alarm the boy. “I saved you, Bae. Do you feel safe?”

The fear was visible in Baelfire’s eyes. It was clear the boy was too shaken to realize what had happened. In time, his son would understand. He would make sure of that.  
\--  
That night the cottage was silent but for the crackle of the hearth. Despite the fire’s warmth it seemed a chill had settled within their home. At last, it was Baelfire who broke the silence.

“You killed the Dark One,” he murmured.

“I had to Bae,” his father responded, “It was the only way to save you. You understand that, don’t you?” 

“I…” the boy hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you see,” his father pleaded. “Now that you’re safe, now that I am-“ Rumplestiltskin chose his words carefully, “Now that I have this power, it doesn’t have to stop here. I can stop the fighting. I can bring the children back to their homes. I can use this power for good, Bae.” He reached a hand out and grabbed a fistful of his son’s cloak. “And then- then we’ll have the life we deserve. A good life.”

Baelfire looked at his father, his eyes full of doubt. “Are you sure, Papa?”

“You’ll see,” Rumplestiltskin responded. He knew that he could control this power, wield it in a way that Zoso had never imagined. He’d prove it to Bae, to the villagers, and eventually to himself.

\--

That night as he watched his son sleep, Rumplestiltskin considered the promises he’d made. With each breath he could feel the dark power growing within him, but he was still inexperienced in bending it to his will. As strong as he was now, he would need a plan if he was to be successful. For a moment, doubt seized him. Even with magic, how was he to bring hundreds- perhaps thousands of children home from the front lines and return them to their homes? He’d had some experience herding sheep in his youth, but this was another matter entirely. He couldn’t very well whistle at the child soldiers and expect them to follow him, a strange man in a tatty cloak. They’d have to see him for what he was- their savior, their best chance at freedom. He cast a disparaging look at his threadbare cloak now hanging on the wall. 

“Not exactly a prince’s cape,” he muttered. “Then again…”

He stood and grabbed the coarse fibers of the cloak within his hands. It would be a simple enough trick to conjure a garment worthy of a hero, something much finer than even the Duke’s officers wore. No black and pewter for the savior of the Frontland’s children, he’d don red, and gold, and furs- he could create something beyond even his own dreams! 

There was a soft groan as Baelfire turned in his sleep, appearing to suffer from a bad dream.

“No,” Rumplestiltskin whispered as he replaced the cloak on its hook. “I’ll not use magic for this.” 

\--

Baelfire awoke to the familiar sound of shears cutting through cloth and rose to see his father bent over his worktable, lost in thought.

“Papa?” He called as he came closer. “What are you doing?”

“Bae,” Rumplestiltskin answered, “good, good.” He looked up from his table but his hands kept moving. “Go round the village, round up whatever bits of fabric you can. Tell them the Dark One-“ he caught a look of disappointment in Baelfire’s eyes, “tell them your father has need of whatever they can spare- the finer the better. They’ll be paid for their troubles.”

“What...? I don’t…”

“No time for questions boy, every moment here is a moment wasted!”Rumplestiltskin ushered his boy from the cottage. “Quickly now, there’s a good boy.”

Within an hour, Baelfire returned, a small bundle of scraps in his arms. While his father was reviled as a coward throughout the village, their neighbors had a soft spot for Bae. Those that hesitated had quickly been convinced by the sight of the soldiers’ bodies, now stone cold on the ground. “Do they?” his father answered, “Well, no matter. Soon they’ll know it’s all for the best. Bring it all here.” He took the bundle in his hands and began sorting it. There were small bits of myriad weaves, some only a few inches across, but Rumplestiltskin lost no time in laying them all out and finding a place for each one. A smile began to creep across his face as he saw each piece fall in to place. 

“Get our supper started,” he said as he returned to work, “I’m almost done.” 

Obediently the boy busied himself putting a kettle on and soon had two steaming bowls of stew in his hands. Rumplestiltskin had also finished his task. 

“What do you think, Bae?” He called out, donning his handiwork. “Nice, eh?”

“I don’t understand, papa. Why do you need such a thing?”

“For the look of the thing, boy! There will be no mistaking me when I come to lead the children of the Frontlands back to their families. A hero has to make an impression!” All of a sudden he was standing atop one of their wooden stools, his arms raised in a flourish. He looked down at his son expectedly. “Well?”

“It- it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Baelfire responded. 

Rumplestiltskin hopped down from his perch and gave an experimental twirl. His cloak flared behind him, a rainbow of colors catching the light from their fire. He hadn’t wasted a scrap of the cuttings that been given to them, each piece finding a home on his garment. Even one of Milah’s dresses had been dedicated to the cause, and for an instant, Baelfire’s hand twitched with the desire to reach out and stroke the blue linen. He wondered what project had been deemed so important as to warrant the destruction of one of the last belongings of the mother he’d lost long ago. The boy’s eyes turned to his father, who continued to strut proudly about their small home. Finally it seemed he’d had enough.

“Well, it will do.”

The next morning the sun had just started to creep over the horizon when Rumplestiltskin himself rose and donned his hero’s cloak. He gently stroked Baelfire’s sleeping face before setting out. 

“Take care my boy,” he whispered. “And don’t you worry, I’ll bring them all home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to LaurieAnne for her hard work as my beta reader. ^_^/


End file.
